


I Thought You’d Never Ask

by mrs_d



Series: MCU Kink Bingo [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (everything is the same except Peggy is there), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dirty Talk, F/M, MCU Kink Bingo, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 04:18:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15721818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrs_d/pseuds/mrs_d
Summary: Peggy’s been away on a mission for two weeks, and it’s driving Steve crazy.





	I Thought You’d Never Ask

**Author's Note:**

> Written for MCU Kink Bingo. Square was "Dirty Talk". Also inspired by [this Tumblr post.](http://mrsdawnaway.tumblr.com/post/176720228764/i-went-to-the-gym-today-and-there-was-a-guy-going)

It’s Sam who notices, because of course he does. He and Steve speak the same language. They always have.

“Damn, Cap,” he says when he walks into the training room first thing in the morning and sees Steve standing over the broken punching bag, its contents seeping all over the floor. “What’d the heavy bag do to you?”

“Nothing,” Steve pants. The good feeling he got from watching it burst is fading, replaced by the itch that seems to have taken up permanent residence under his skin since Peggy left for Thailand two weeks ago. “Guess I just got carried away.”

Unconvinced, Sam shakes his head. “Come on, out with it. What’s eating you?”

Recognizing defeat, Steve wipes the sweat off his brow and shrugs. “I miss my wife.”

“Oh,” Sam replies. Then he coughs.

Steve frowns. “What?” he asks.

“Nothing,” says Sam, turning away.

“What?” Steve insists to Sam’s back.

When Sam turns around, it’s clear that he’s suppressing a smile. “Nothing,” he says again. “Just… I get it. It’s hard. To go without.”

Steve stares at him for another moment, completely lost, and then he catches on. “Oh,” he says, too loud in the empty room. “Oh, no— it’s— uh… not… no. Not that.”

Sam raises one skeptical eyebrow, and Steve feels his cheeks flush. His face is probably beet red by now. He shifts his weight from one foot to another awkwardly.

“Okay,” he admits finally. “Maybe it’s… kinda that.”

“I’m proud of you for being so open about it,” Sam teases him.

Steve chuckles and starts sweeping the floor while Sam wraps his hands. “How long till she gets back?” Sam asks.

“Another two weeks,” Steve answers with a sigh. “At least.”

Sam whistles lowly. “That sucks, man, I’m sorry.”

“We’ve just never been apart this long,” Steve goes on with a half-shrug. “And I’m worried about her. I know,” he adds when he sees that Sam is about to protest. “I know she can handle herself, and she doesn’t need a man watching out for her. But… I can’t help it.”

Sam nods. “You’d feel better if you could touch her. Know she’s still in one piece.”

“Yes.” Steve rolls his head back, working some of the kinks out of his neck. Suddenly he wants nothing more that, to get his hands on her. _“God,_ yes.”   

Sam laughs. “Oh, yeah, this has nothing to do with sex. Nothing at all.”

“Shut up,” Steve tells him with no heat. He breathes out a long breath. “Doesn’t matter either way. Nothing I can do about it.”

“Can you talk to her?” Sam asks. “Or is she in a blackout zone?”

“No, we can talk,” Steve says, but it’s hesitant, and Sam notices right away. His eyebrow comes up again, and Steve elaborates. “She’s eleven hours ahead of me. I called her a few days ago, but we didn’t really… connect.”

“Connect,” Sam repeats neutrally.

“Not a euphemism,” Steve clarifies, reading Sam’s tone. “Or, maybe it is, I don’t know. I just feel like we’re going in different directions. Like we’re out of sync, or something. If she were here, we could...”

Steve shrugs, feeling at a loss. He picks up the new bag to hang it, but Sam stops him with a hand on his arm.

“Steve, you should go home,” he says. “Call Peggy.”

Steve frowns. “But—”

“You’re pent-up,” Sam goes on. “She probably feels it, too. You guys just need to spend some quality time together.”

“Quality—?” Steve shakes his head. “But she’s on the other side of the world.”

“So? That’s why we have phones,” Sam says. “Some of them even have cameras on them.”

“I don’t— I don’t know,” Steve protests, unconvinced and uncomfortable.

“Trust me,” says Sam. He gives Steve a significant look. “It’s a lot easier on your wrists.”

“My— oh.” Steve shuffles his feet again. “But Sam, I don’t know how to do that,” he explains in a low voice, the words coming out almost too quickly for him to be embarrassed. Almost.

Sam blinks, the corners of his mouth twitch suddenly with suppressed laughter. Steve rolls his eyes.

“I know how to do _that,”_ he mutters. “But the… the phone sex thing? Not my forte.”

“It’s not that hard,” Sam assures him. “Me and Bucky—”

“I don’t wanna know,” Steve interrupts quickly. “You guys are like brothers to me, and I don’t want to think about—”

“Oh, relax, you prude,” says Sam, laughing outright now. “No wonder you and your wife aren’t connecting.”

Steve laughs with him, but his cheeks are burning again. “I,” he tries again after a minute. “I don’t really think Peggy’s into that.”

Sam gives him a no-nonsense look. “Have you asked her?”

“No,” Steve is forced to admit.

“Well, then, you don’t know,” Sam says, sensible as ever. “And you won’t know unless you talk to her.”

“I suppose,” Steve concedes.

“Look, I don’t want to tell you your business,” Sam goes on, ignoring the fact that this is clearly, obviously, not true. “And if it’s not something you’re into, then it’s not something you’re into. But you should at least think about it. You’ve gotta find something to do to deal with this. Something that doesn’t involve cutting your hands to ribbons in the training room,” he adds, with a pointed look down.

Steve follows his eyes, noticing for the first time that his knuckles are bruised and bloody. “Oh,” he says quietly.

“Yeah,” Sam agrees. _“Oh_ is right.”

Steve huffs out a laugh. “I’ll think about it,” he promises. “So long as you swear that we will never talk about this again.”

Sam laughs, too. “Deal.”

“And that you’ll never tell Bucky,” Steve adds hastily, as Sam heads over the speedbag in the corner.

“No guarantees,” Sam calls over his shoulder.

* * *

It takes Steve a good couple of hours to decide to follow through and ask Peggy about the idea. The problem is, he has no idea how to go about it. What should he say? It’s not like this kind of topic comes up organically. He’s on the verge of Googling _Phone Sex for Dummies_ when his phone chimes in his hand. It’s Peggy.

 _About to turn in,_ she says. _Wish you were here to kiss me goodnight._

Maybe it does come up organically, Steve thinks. His heart thumping in his chest, he checks the time; it’s almost midnight there. _Are you secure enough to video chat?_ he asks. _Or awake enough?_

Peggy answers him by calling, and the sight of her makes him ache. She’s lying on her side, her dark hair pulled into a messy ponytail that’s draped over one shoulder, almost tangled with the earphone cord. The mic dangles by her breasts, and Steve can just barely make out the shadow of cleavage revealed by the stretched collar of the old t-shirt she’s wearing. His old t-shirt. He smiles at it, at her.

“Hi,” he says stupidly.

“Hello, darling,” she replies, like she always does.

“I wish I could kiss you, too,” Steve says. It’s not the sexiest thing, maybe, but it’s a start.

Peggy hums softly and shifts against the pillow. Her eyes close briefly, and Steve notices just the hint of a bruise on the side of her face.

“How was work today?” he asks.

“Let’s not talk about work right now,” says Peggy. She licks her lips and sighs. “I _miss_ you.”

Steve can read between the lines, and he knows his wife. He knows what that tone means. He teeters on the precipice for one more second, then takes the plunge, says the kind of thing that he would say if she were here, if he’d stepped into their bedroom to find her like this.

“Maybe I should do something about that.” His voice is huskier than he intends it to be, but it makes Peggy shift again and smile.

“Yes,” she says, and Steve recognizes his own tone when she adds, “God, yes.”

Steve’s heartrate kicks up another notch. “Okay. But I gotta warn you, Peg, I don’t really know how to— you know—”

“Well, you can start by taking your cock out,” Peggy says, her mouth turning up into a smirk. “Let me see.”

Steve chuckles, embarrassed. “Okay,” he says again. He sits on the couch and sets his phone on the coffee table, propped up so that the camera takes in most of his body. After a second’s hesitation, he unbuttons his jeans. He’s not hard yet, but the anticipation is building, like a buzz under his skin.

Peggy hums again and rubs her lips together. “I want to taste it,” she murmurs.

The words send a shiver through Steve, lighting him up and making him bold. “Take my shirt off. Please?” he adds, trying not to sound like he’s giving her orders. She does outrank him, after all.

Peggy grins. The screen becomes a blur of motion, and when it clears, she’s sitting up against the headboard, the shirt is gone, and she’s putting the earphones back in. Steve can see every square inch of her breasts. His cock starts to rise as his eyes trace her curves, zeroing in on each of her pert, pink nipples.

“I brought it with me because it smells like you,” Peggy says. 

It takes a second for the words to reach Steve through the fog that’s filled him just from looking at her. When he catches on, he smiles, raising his eyes back to hers.

“That’s sweet,” he says. “That you wanted something of mine to be so close to you.”

Peggy smiles back. She adjusts the earphones some more, laying out the cord and setting the phone down far enough away that he can see her face and the sweatpants she’s wearing — also his.

“Not just sweet,” she says. “It’s so that when I touch myself, I can imagine it’s you.”

“Oh,” Steve breathes. His mouth has gone very dry.

Peggy’s eyes dart down and back up. “I see that’s got your attention.”

“Uh huh,” Steve hears himself say.

Peggy’s smile widens. “Take your shirt off, please, darling?”

Steve obeys her so fast he gets kind of tangled, and through the fabric he hears Peggy laughing at him.

“In my imagination, you’re always much more suave,” she says.

“Is that so,” Steve chuckles, tossing the sweater onto the armrest of the sofa. “What, uh... what do I do? In your imagination, I mean?”

“Well,” Peggy says slowly. “You start by kissing me here.”

Her hand comes into frame. Steve, riveted, watches one finger trace a line from the back of her ear down to her collarbone.

“Then, you—” She cups her breasts, lifts them slightly. They’re almost too big for her grip, spilling out of her palms. Steve knows their shape, their weight and texture. He knows the way they feel, the way they fit so perfectly in his hands.

“Do I play with them?” he asks breathlessly. “Show me what I do.”

“You lick them,” she says, almost matter-of-fact. Her thumbs skate over her hard nipples. Steve longs for a taste.

“Show me,” he says again.

Peggy smirks a little and raises one hand to her mouth. She sucks on her first two fingers — good lord, that’s giving Steve some ideas — and touches her right nipple, circling it slowly. Peggy’s eyes close, her lips part.

“You like it slow,” Steve observes. This isn’t new to him, of course.

Peggy doesn’t open her eyes, but she nods.

“But that’s not all you like,” Steve goes on. “You like it hard, too.”

Peggy nods again.

“Pinch it,” Steve instructs.

She pinches, her head tilting back. Steve can hear her gasp. He grips his erection with one hand, gives himself a loose tug. From a distance, he thinks that he should be embarrassed, that he’s jerking off in his living room in the middle of the day, but it’s all too easy to push that aside when Peggy moves over to her other nipple.

“God, look at you,” he says, the words falling out of his mouth with no effort. “You really miss me, huh.”

Peggy’s eyes open. She looks down, takes in what he’s doing. “Do you want some help with that?” she asks, the same way she would if she were here and noticed he was hard.

“Sure,” Steve agrees, playing it up with the lop-sided grin that he saves just for her.

“Then you’d best get the KY from the bedroom,” Peggy tells him. “Your hand will need to be wet for what I want you to imagine.”

“I— uh,” Steve stammers. Any trace of cool that he had has evaporated in light of the desire that floods him. He wants— he wants everything, all at once. His cock throbs in his hand; he feels like he could come untouched, with just the sound and sight of her.

“Hurry up, darling,” Peggy singsongs. “Or I won’t wait for you.”

“Right,” says Steve, as his pleasure-stupid brain catches up, reminds him that it’ll be so much more satisfying if he does as Peggy says, because it always is.

“One sec,” he adds, and he winces slightly as he gets to his feet.

He’s halfway down the bedroom when he changes his mind and goes back for the phone. He glances at the screen as he carries it with him; Peggy has vacated the bed, leaving only a rumpled pillow and the shiny black headboard. He realizes vaguely that he doesn’t know where she is — a safe house? a hotel? — but Peggy told him she was safe to talk, to do this, and Steve trusts that.

By the time he’s settled in their bed, the lube beside his leg, she’s back, and Steve sees what she was doing. Her sweatpants — his pants — are gone, leaving just her black panties, and a blue cloth is in her hand. She unwraps it to reveal her favorite vibrator — the pink one. Steve can never remember what it’s called. Something after a bird, he thinks, though he has no idea why it would be called that. It’s got a long part that flares out, almost teardrop-shaped, and a smaller curved bit that bends and buzzes against her clitoris.

“You don’t mind, do you, darling?” she asks, showing it to the camera before placing it and the washcloth on the bedspread.

“No,” Steve answers, surprised and aroused. He hadn’t even noticed that she packed it; though, to be fair, he hasn’t opened their bedside drawer since she’s been gone. “No, of course not. I just wish I could do it for you.”

“You are,” says Peggy simply. “Or you will be. I’ve got to take care of you first.”

“You don’t have to,” Steve protests, automatic, and Peggy shakes her head.

“You’re coming first,” she says, with enough authority that Steve finds himself straightening his shoulders, sitting up higher.

“Yes ma’am,” he says, half-joking.

“We’ll play that game another time,” Peggy laughs. “Maybe when I get home.”

Steve blinks — is she serious? They’ve never done anything like that before, but he’s imagined it: Peggy in charge, tying him up, forcing him to his knees. He never thought that she’d be interested in that— but he never asked, either.

“What are you thinking about?” Peggy’s voice interrupts.

“You,” Steve replies honestly. When she gets home, maybe he’ll tell her. Maybe he’ll ask.

“You think too much,” says Peggy.

Steve nods, pushing the thoughts aside, focusing on the here and now. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Peggy says. “Just take your pants off.”

The laugh bubbles up out of Steve’s throat before he can stop it, and on the screen Peggy is grinning.

“What?” she says, laughing with him. “It’s late, we need to get this show on the road.”

“Okay, okay,” Steve mock-grumbles. He shuffles on the bed, shoves his jeans down his thighs. After a few minutes of finagling with the phone, he changes tactics, rolling onto his side and setting the phone down on the nightstand, angled to get most of his body.

“That’s better, isn’t it?” Peggy asks. When Steve nods, she goes on. “Get your hand wet, darling.”

Steve fumbles for the lube, squirts a little into his right hand and rubs it between his fingers. It’s cold, but it warms up quickly. He glances up, ready for the next instruction, and he knows he’s not imagining it when Peggy’s eyes darken.

“I want to get my mouth on you,” she says. “Lick you, tease you, swirl my tongue around the head the way I know you like. Yes, like that,” she interrupts herself, when she sees what Steve is doing — sliding the foreskin back to expose the tip, tracing its shape with his fingers. “But slower.”

Steve obediently slows his hand, drags it out the way she would if she were here. She so likes to tease him. Maybe she’d like it if he begged.

“Bring your other hand down,” she instructs. “Play with your balls, show me how that feels.”

It feels naughty, dirty, to want to beg, to crawl for her, but he does. He does. “Please,” he tries, but it’s just a whisper.  

“Then I’d take you in,” Peggy goes on, ignoring him, or maybe she just didn’t hear. “Suck you hard.”

Steve shifts his grip, takes hold of his cock, and gives himself a slow, hard stroke that almost mimics the tight heat of her mouth. His eyes fall shut with the relief, the pleasure, the want for more.

“Just the end, though,” Peggy says, not unsharply. “Not all the way. Not yet.”

“Peggy,” Steve all-but moans, as he readjusts, the head of his cock slipping between his fingers. He’s so hot already, the wait is making him come undone. “Peg—”

“Shh, shh, we’ll get there,” Peggy soothes him. “Open your eyes, Steve, look at me.”

How can he not? He sees her, her hand disappearing into her panties, and he hears himself whimper.

“You’re so beautiful,” she says. “I love you so much.”

“You too,” Steve manages.

Peggy smiles and shifts her hips. The mic picks up the way her breath hitches when she does, and Steve feels another wave of heat roll through him, just at the knowledge of what this is doing to her, that she’s right there with him, that they’re doing this together. 

“Now I’ll take you deeper,” Peggy says after a long, desperate few minutes. Steve groans gratefully as he lets his hand move down, all the way to the root and back up. He watches her watch him. She licks her lips until they shine in the yellowy light of wherever she is, and Steve’s hips thrust forward of their own volition, moving towards her.

“Yes, you can do that,” Peggy tells him. “Go ahead, Steve. Fuck my mouth.”

“Oh, God,” Steve gasps. He has to screw his eyes up tight because if he sees her right now, sees her full, shiny lips form that word—

“You like that?” she asks.

She knows the answer, of course. She has for years. She rarely curses, and Steve loves it when she does. He manages a nod.

“Fuck,” Peggy says again, the single syllable harsh but beautiful in her voice. “Fuck me, Steve.”

A wounded, wordless sound slides out of Steve’s throat as he strokes himself, harder and faster.

“I want you to come down my throat,” Peggy says, but it’s not a request, it’s an order, and, God, Steve can’t take much more of this. “Let me taste it, swallow it, suck it out of you till there’s not a drop left.”

“Jesus—” Abruptly, Steve comes, it feels like forever, and all the while Peggy’s voice is on his periphery. She’s there, she’s with him, she’s grounding him.

“That’s it,” Peggy’s saying, when Steve can focus enough to hear her words. “Look at you, darling, you’re a mess.”

Steve opens his eyes and takes in the sight; she’s right, of course. He made a mess, and it’s painfully obvious in the bright light of the day. The embarrassment he’d been feeling before returns— or tries to. He looks at Peggy, with her hand still in her panties, and he shoves it aside.

“Your turn,” he says, grabbing a tissue and hurriedly wiping his hands.

“Shall I get my vibrator?”

 _Sure,_ Steve almost says, but then he doesn’t. He knows that she likes the tease, too, and it felt so good when she made him wait. The least he can do is return the favor.

“Not yet,” he says instead, and Peggy inhales sharply, a pleased expression coming over her face.

“I think you’d better get those panties off,” says Steve. Then, struck with inspiration, he adds, “I can’t lick your pussy if you’re wearing underwear.”

“Steven,” Peggy scolds, but she’s grinning. “Such language from you, I never would have guessed.”

Steve laughs. _Pussy_ is Peggy’s word, and it still feels strange to say, since the only way he’d encountered the word previously was as a slur, mostly directed at his own sickly body. But he’s getting used to it, and her pleased reaction helps.

“What?” he says. “You told me you like it.”

“I do,” says Peggy. Her panties are gone now, and Steve can see everything. His stomach jolts— his dick is too spent to get hard again so soon, but the arousal is there nonetheless. His eyes dart back up to Peggy’s face, and there’s another jolt; she’s losing her composure a little. Her tongue slips out, slides across her upper lip.

“Say it again,” she says, barely above a whisper.

“Pussy,” Steve says, drawing it out. “I want to kiss it, lick it, drive my tongue inside.”

“Really,” says Peggy. Her fingers dip down, just barely inside.

“Yeah, like that,” says Steve. “Just like that.”

Peggy’s long lashes flutter once before her eyes fully close. Her exposed nipples are hard, and Steve thinks he can see a faint trace of sweat on her forehead.

“I think you’d better get your vibrator,” he says, and Peggy’s eyes snap open again. “I think you’re ready for it.”

“More than— ready,” Peggy says, her voice catching as she grabs it, shifts her hips forward, and slides it inside.

“Not too deep,” Steve says, stopping her to tease her, but also just to watch. He wants to see, to imagine. Now his dick is stirring again — superpowered stamina, plus the weeks apart. He wants her so badly.

“I’ll only fuck you with the tip,” he adds. His mouth is dry, but the words come out easier than he would have thought possible.

“Steve,” Peggy says, her voice rising at the end. He loves it when she says his name.

“Turn it on, Peg,” Steve instructs. “Imagine it’s me, wearing that vibrating ring you like so much.”

“You mean your jewelry,” Peggy laughs faintly, and Steve grins, rolls his eyes. Such a dumb cutesy term for it, but he loves it. Peggy named it.

“Yeah, baby,” he says lowly. “Think about that. Me, inside you, the vibration hitting your clit— slower than that,” he adds, echoing her from before. Her hand slows down at once, the shaft of the toy disappearing inside a fraction of an inch at a time, the upper vibrating part landing on her clitoris for a long second before leaving again.

Steve gives in and starts stroking himself. He’s got another one in him, though it’ll take longer to come than hers.

“I’m close,” Peggy tells him, like she reads his mind. “Keep talking, Steve, please—”

“God, I want to fuck you,” he says, arousal racing through him as he watches her manipulate the toy, fucking herself with the thickest part of it, her pace increasing. He mimics the movement, with long, quick strokes with the leftover lube.

“Yeah,” Steve encourages her. “Yeah, like that. Faster, baby, harder. Oh, you like it like that, don’t you?”

“Steve—”

“Peggy,” Steve answers her, the words spilling out of him. “Peggy, baby, I want you so much. Come for me, Pegs, come on, let me see—”

She cries out, her thighs pushing outward. Steve can see the muscles contracting, and he knows what it feels like to be inside her when she comes. He squeezes his cock, a poor imitation of the real thing, and watches her slowly come down.

Eventually, Peggy sighs and twitches as she pulls the toy out, turns it off and sets it on the washcloth. “Good Lord,” she murmurs, sliding forward and sinking onto the pillow. There’s a moment of darkness on the screen until she moves it, setting it on the nightstand and rolling to face it. She’s in the same position as she was when she first called, except now she’s naked.

“You going to sleep?” Steve asks softly.

“Probably,” Peggy answers without opening her eyes. “No offence. I'm too tired to move.”

Steve chuckles. “None taken. You get some rest, and I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Peggy nods, her mic picking up the shush of her hair moving. “I love you,” she says, almost a whisper, her brown eyes blinking open.

Steve aches to hold her, to kiss her forehead, her cheek, her shoulder. “Love you, too,” he replies. “Goodnight.”

He watches her remove the earbuds and drop them to the floor, then she gives the camera one more sleepy smile before her hand comes up, and the call disconnects.

Steve sighs and rolls onto his back. The ceiling is light with the afternoon sun, and it’s hot in their bedroom. He stretches his limbs, closes his eyes. His dick is still hard, pointing up like a soldier at attention, but he ignores it. Peggy probably won’t be awake or free to talk until at least this time tomorrow; and he’s got the mental image to sustain him till he goes to bed tonight.

He laughs a little. It’s absurd, but he does feel better. For the first time since she left he feels relaxed, soothed. There’s no desire to go out and punch things, no itch to run for miles knowing that he won’t get tired.

“Ought to send Sam a fruit basket,” he says. 


End file.
